Chapter 12 – Bird's Eye View
The sky had long since disappeared into the swirling snows of the arctic blizzard, blotted out by countless snowflakes which cast a chilling veil across the barren, frozen landscape. Occasional outcrops of charcoal-colored rocks, ravaged by the hissing wind, were the only thing to break up the monotonous and vicious tundra that seemed to shoot off endlessly in all directions. 2 owls, 1 larger than the other, could only barely be seen through the maelstrom of snow and ice, trudging along and leaving small tracks in their wake that were quickly tidied up and hidden by the blizzard that seemed oblivious to their presence. One of the owls, the smaller one, used his wings to tighten the snow flecked swatches of cloth wrapped around his body to keep him warm. The larger owl turned to look at him, a slight smile tinged with cruelty played at his beak.
"Feeling cold, are we?" The owl's deep voice was as chilling as the air around them; barely above a whisper but as easily heard as if they were in a quiet room only inches from each other. The owl trailing him, who appeared to be in his late twenties, folded his ears back against the hissing wind and steeled his features not wanting to show any sign of weakness. The larger predator laughed dryly and then continued on his way.
'Damn it all to hell,' thought the smaller owl, glaring at his aging father from behind. He had agreed to come on this expedition to leave his mark in history as one of the first explorers to make it to the South Pole, but he hadn't counted on the whole thing taking such a turn for the worst. As soon as their ship had landed on the icy coasts of the bottom of the earth nearly a week ago, the ice froze around it almost instantly, locking it hopelessly in place. Ever since then, they had been trudging along southward through blizzard after blizzard, stopping only occasionally to eat from their dwindling supply of food. The bitter air had begun to form tendrils of ice on the tips of his exposed feathers, weighing him down heavily. Very close to his physical breaking point, but unwilling to submit to the elements, he continued doggedly forwards.
The larger owl peered into the distance with his seasoned eyes, looking for anything to use as shelter from the battering elements that were beginning to take their toll. He was hardier than his son in both mind and body, but he too had his limits. Through the swirling torrent of snow, he spied a small opening in a rocky formation to his right. Turning with a labored huff, he began to make his way to what he saw as temporary salvation. As he approached it, son in tow, he raised his talons and struck down on the iced outer edge of the opening. A shower of ice and snow shot forth as his razors made contact and disappeared into the air around them, leaving a considerably larger entrance to the newly found cave. The two birds managed to squeeze in without much issue. As soon as they were out of the harsh storm, everything went quiet; the only things that gave away the harsh environment outside was a low rumble and a chilling breeze coming from their entrance.
"Clockwerk," stated the older owl bluntly, beckoning for his son. The younger owl stopped gazing around the large, dim cavern and made his way to his father.
"Yes?" he replied, an almost imperceptible hint of fear and uncertainty tingeing his voice.
"Check the deeper parts of the cave for anything that may be… useful."
Knowing that it was unwise to disobey his father's wishes, even if they didn't fully make sense to him, Clockwerk turned with a ruffle of his feathers and began to walk into the faint light that was the rear of the cave. As he got farther and farther along, the icy walls began to get closer and closer until they eventually formed a small entryway, almost a door of sorts. Squeezing through, the ice touching his feathers giving him an odd cooling sensation, he appeared on the other side in a large chamber.
If he were the sort to think such things, he would have noticed just how incredible it looked; the walls were made of a black rock that had veins of silver running throughout them creating a beautiful, lustrous web of the precious metal. As impressive as the walls of the large round room were, the ceiling was most stunning of all; it was not rock, but a dome of blue ice that filled the room with a pale, ethereal glow that made the smooth granite floors swim with light. Not phased by any of it, the large owl continued on his way through the room in his search for 'useful' items. How anything in a long-forgotten cave could be useful, he did not know, but he had to at least pretend to check to please his father.
Without warning, a large crash came from the far edge of the room. His interest piqued, he slowly began to walk forwards, being careful to not let his talons slip out from under him on the smooth rock. As he approached the far edge of the room, a faint sound caused his finely-tuned ears to perk up.
"Water?" he whispered aloud as he turned a corner leading to the left. Surely enough, a rather sizeable cascade of water was flowing from the icy ceiling and hitting the ground with noisy splashes. His eyes followed the flow of the water until they finally landed on a large, jagged block of ice almost as large as he was. Looking around, he saw fresh chips of ice scattering the floor. 'Must have broken free from the ceiling and fallen,' he thought to himself. Taking a careful step forwards (cold water and feathers do not mix well) he inspected the large chunk. Seeing that if didn't have much water on it from the fall, he extended a wing and pulled the immensely heavy block towards him. Remembering the cool breeze that had assaulted him and his father near the entrance of the cave, he began to size up the chunk of ice as a potential 'door' for their shelter. Realizing that it was darker in the recesses of the cave than he had remembered, he latched onto the block and began to pull it back to the entrance.
"That should do the trick," mumbled Clockwerk's father, Laark, as he pushed the large block of ice that his son had found into the hole that he had created to enter the cave. Shoving against it with one final heave, it settled into place with a satisfying thunk. He turned to face his son in the darkness. "We have no food," he stated bluntly.
"No," answered the younger owl.
"We have no fire."
"No," answered the younger owl.
"We have no hope."
"No," answered the younger owl.
Laark smiled a genuine smile, and laughed heartily. "See you in the morning, then! I am going to get some… rest."
Clockwerk had been staring at the sleeping body of his father for an hour, unsure of absolutely everything. His mind was cloudy, as if someone were shining a light in a smoke filled room. Why had his fathered seemed so happy to be on the brink of death, especially a death like this? He would have wanted to go out in a fiery flurry of feathers, locked in mortal combat with some great rival; but no, he was slowly succumbing to hunger and the elements like some old bat. Hunger… the mere thought of food sent almost unbearable pains through his body. What little food they had in their packs had been sifted through, but the frost and moisture of the environment had rendered it inedible. 'We don't have a fire,' he thought. 'What food could I possibly find in this frozen hell to eat?'
His mind was cold, but something clicked deep inside a part of him that he had never felt before. "That could work," he said aloud to no one in particular, an odd glimmer in his eyes. He walked over to the recently installed door and tapped at it with the tip of his wing. He ran his eyes over it, and then darted them a little to the right to let them rest once again on his father, who had fallen asleep on the icy floors of the cave only feet from the entrance. Clockwerk blinked a couple of times, and then slipped a wing into the crack that separated the ice door from the walls of the cave. Much to his surprise, it moved rather easily. Glancing once again at his father, he cocked his head. Huffing once, he dislodged the door and kept it from falling with one wing. He let go of it and let it tip forwards to his father.
A large streak of red shot out from underneath the ice with considerable force and splattered the surrounding area with a large blotch of the bright liquid. He had intended for the ice to fully flatten his father, but the large block had tipped to the side and only managed to crush his skull. Clockwerk didn't see any of the horror, though. He only saw one thing.
"Finally, something to eat," he stated almost joyfully aloud, clacking his beak. "Sorry about the whole 'killing you with a block of ice' thing, I'm sure you would have done the same to me if we were in here any longer." He stepped forwards and pushed the block of ice aside, dragging a small piece of his father along with a fresh red smear and a grating sound as fragments of skull and beak scraped the floor. Without hesitation, he picked up a bony fragment and ran his tongue over it. He stared off into space, a faint red outline around his beak.
"Tastes like disapproval," he whispered, the walls of the cave amplifying his voice considerably. He licked it again, this time lingering on a corner of it. "Tastes like failure," he continued. He stuck the entire fragment of skull in his mouth next, lapping at the stained shard hungrily. "Tastes wonderful!"
His father was nearly twice the size of him, and by eating only a small amount each day he was able to survive nearly a month and a half. The cold and ice acted as a natural preservation device for the meat, and the odd spring at the rear of the cave a convenient source of water. The interior of the cave was a rather frightful sight at this point; everything from the walls to the floor had been stained a glistening red, and this presented those who found the hollow with a bit of a shock.
Two large polar bears looked hesitantly around the cave, shouting out and hoping for an answer. Hearing nothing, they skirted around a large chunk of ice that sat in the center of the main entrance and continued into the deeper parts of the cave.
Deep colored walls, an ice ceiling, sparkling floors; they had never seen anything quite like it. They split up and stepped tentatively around the outer edges of the atrium, scanning everything along the way in the hope of finding whoever—or whatever—had made the mess in the entrance, and as they turned a corner, what greeted them appeared far more like a what than a who.
Frozen shards of dull crimson blood caked the feathers of the still form of what appeared to be an owl huddled in the darkened corner. The scratch marks clawed into the ice around the pitiful shape, as well as his flesh-rent talons, indicated that it had been there for quite some time trying, however fruitlessly it's efforts may have been, to move around.
The two bears shot each other a solemn glance and slowly positioned themselves on either side of the cold figure, preparing to carry it out. Before they could lift him, however, he wheezed to life in a series of coughs and shivers. He creakily turned his head to face each of them in turn.
"Who…" he took a deep breath, as if even the simplest of words taxed him beyond his limit. "… Are you." Everything around him meshed together to form a single shapeless blur of color. The only thing that had alerted him to the 2 creatures was the sound of their shuffling across the numbingly cold floor. His body shutting down due to the cold, what little he could see began to disappear as he slowly lost consciousness.
All was black.
A.N.-
Ok, not a full and complete chapter, but I know all of you are getting tired of waiting for a new one, so here ya go! I am writing and about to upload this while in the middle of school, as I am in my one class with an internet connection (my laptop is fairly picky, you see) and want to put it out on the web for you all to critique and hopefully enjoy. The next chapter (or next part of this chapter depending on how you want to look at it) should be up in the next week or so. Once again, sorry for being such a slow writer, and thank you all for staying with the story for this long!
Peace, yo
-Jake
